


Out of Spite

by Anonymous



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Heavy Petting, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of alcohol, Not Beta Read, mentions of illegal substances, no editing b/c cheers, they're 20 and 21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sometimes, it's Gon who trails behind. He's able to see things in a new light.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50
Collections: Sin x Bin, anonymous





	Out of Spite

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as something you might call a study. Now, it's sort of a reminder that you can't just force content creators off the internet because you don't like something they create. Shaping social activism around fictional people, but disregarding the humanity of actual, living human beings is not making the positive impact on the world that you think it is. It is actually extremely counterproductive and doesn't protect anyone. ;) Anyway, enjoy or don't. As this title suggests, I posted this out of spite.

Gon has been tracking a trail of white all evening, trapped between sweaty pelvises and the slick curl of damp humidity. His shirt clings faithfully to his back, a friendly glint in his eye is perfectly plastered onto his features as he passes by masses of students, all vaguely familiar shades of beige in the low light.

Beer splatters against the floor as his friend continues his story, cheeks growing redder by the minute while he recounts the interaction with some girl for probably the third time tonight.

“Damn,” Gon says, straightening slightly, biceps flexing across his chest at the sight of white. “I hope it works out, buddy.” He slaps a mostly reassuring hand on his shoulder before following the glowing white like a hound to its prey. Its not hard to spot in the darkness even if he had to wrestle past groping hands, oblivious browned figures.

Gon grabs an abandoned cup of liquor and downs it in one gulp, crumpling the cheap plastic as the thick sensation of brown liquid settles heavily in his stomach. Goosebumps prick at his arms as he glides down the slick metal railing. The rusting stairs announce his pursuit in high pitched squeaks, groaning under the weight of his steps. So much for his surprise entrance. The glow of white disappears around a corner, and Gon throws caution to the wind, following quickly behind as the crisp wind nipped at his ears, working hard at the small bits of brown liquor sitting in his gut.

He finds his target leaning against the back of an apartment building, a cigarette dangling between red lips. He hardly spares him a glance, taking a healthy drag that glows carnelian in the surrounding darkness; their only other source of light is the neon glow of a fast food joint across the way, scattering planes of red and pink across the leaky alleyway.

“You following me or something, Freeccs?” comes a husky voice, a thin trail of smoke wafts from his lips, and Gon realizes its a spliff. His last name curls off his tongue with contempt, long vowels and hard k’s, the s’s filled with a sharp hiss. Maybe it would bother some, but Gon has never been very good at shame, not really one to play the bashful type, anyway, he knows what he wants.

“I guess so,” he says plainly, affirmatively, listening the brown glass crunch wetly beneath his shoes. His person of interest only shakes his head, white bangs falling into his eyes, an amused sneer constructed on his features. Is it annoyance at Gon’s unwillingness to entertain his aggression, the subtle teasing? Gon’s unsure, or rather, he doesn’t care either way.

“So, what?” He can hear his person of interest saying, shifting closer.Gon let’s him invade his space only by a margin, stepping backward until he feels the grooves a frigid red stone brick press into his spine. Gon plucks the lit spliff from his mouth, ashing it against the damp brick knowingly. “Little shit.” The quiet bitterness in his voice makes Gon shiver.

He’s grasping at what little dignity he has left when their eyes meet. His target’s eyes are cold and calculating, narrowed in indignation. Gon can’t tell if he wants to hurt him or have him, but he receives an answer when glowing white sinks lower and lower, brushes across his sweaty forehead when Killua takes his bottom lip between sharp teeth, tugging harshly. His sigh is scarfed down, fed to the world as nicotine stained lips brush against his own. He wastes no time trying to gain the upper hand, neck craning to bring their lips together again, eyes wide open, watching for any shift of expression, a frigid blue sliver clashes with wet caramel colors. Hot and warm, a pierced tongue parts his lips, teasing at his own and he can no longer keep his eyes open. The bitterness of the nicotine is familiar, forcing his stomach to clench and the back of his head meets cold brick. It's not a painful meeting but it's not too comfortable either. He lets the chilly feeling dive beneath his skin.

Gon tastes the slight tang of blood as he nibbles at a cracked lip, greedily sucking on the reopened wound. He can hear his own nails claw uselessly against the cold brick when a knee situates itself between his groin, pressing harshly. There’s a hum against his lips, the faint feeling of a smile, and this time, he does not suppress his groan. Brown eyes shutter open, hips grinding forward to gain friction, but the man above him shifts just before they can meet. His lips are a shining, blush red, bangs fallen into dripping blue irises. There’s only a beat before they’re diving back in, feet shifting against the sordid pavement of the alley. A pale hand is pushing into the red stone next to Gon’s head, steadying the rest of the world as the two shift, pelvis on pelvis, tectonic shifting and exposing liquid, hot and burning, to cool night air. There’s magma thrumming under Gon’s skin. It leaves him whirring and wanting.

For the first time that evening, Gon touches Killua with his hands, smoothing circles into the tight v beneath his jeans. His nail ducks beneath the band of underwear but won’t travel any further. He watches, head cocked to the right, his own haughty grin beginning to splay recklessly. Gon dodges another kiss, snatching his head away, listening to the nails next to his face skitter across red. Pale nostrils flare at his smirk, much too innocent for someone with a knee set against his dick. He brings his head forward slowly, watching the dark expression flash across white features. He won’t indulge Killua again without getting what he wants, so they stand silently listening to their own breaths mix in the misty air, the moist slosh of car tire against the pavement. The scarlet neon glow spills over the glittering beer bottles menacingly. Killua extracts his knee with a huff, shoving slender hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“So, you coming or what?,” Killua spits, turning on his heel, headed in the direction of his apartment. He doesn’t look back, but he can hear the wet squelch of rubber shoe against the muddy pavement echoing behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you would call this pre-smut. Unsure if I'll continue. Maybe if I make a separate page for smut since this is my second time writing anonymously on this page now. The first time was "He forgot his flip flops."


End file.
